


Scars

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Hawke, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: Fenris isn't used to Hawke but he's getting there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fenris jerks his arm away so quickly Hawke is worried they’ve hurt him but, immediately after, he shoots them a guilty look and awkwardly flexes his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Did I do something wrong?” Hawke asks, brows knitted together.

Fenris only shakes his head, lips in a thin line, and seems to drift into thought for a moment. They’re worried but he hasn’t moved; he seems content to stay sprawled on his stomach on their bed next to them even with his arm tucked closer than before. Finally, slowly, he stretches it back out over the pillow next to their head.

“What were you doing?” he asks, quieter.

“I’ve never really felt them before.” Hawke explains, hand hovering over the lyrium scarring on Fenris’ arm. His eyes follow the motion, still so cautious, but he doesn’t move this time. “Usually I, uh, try not to mess with them. I should have asked.”

Fenris shrugs, shifts slightly, and props his chin on his arm to look at them better.

“You can touch them again.” he says finally, “I don’t mind.”

“You pulled away like I burnt you.” Hawke points out, fingers still hovering over his skin.

Fenris smiles weakly at them and shrugs again.

“I’ve never had anyone be so… careful with them.” he says, “It surprised me.”

Hawke scrunches their face a moment, processing this oh-so casually delivered information, and then leans in and presses their lips to one of the lines going up Fenris’ forearm. He leans back and watches, almost entranced, as they nuzzle their face against his skin.

True affection is not something Fenris remembers receiving before Hawke. He knows now, logically, he at least was hugged and doted on by his mother. But those memories have not surfaced, possible never well, so things like this with Hawke are all he has. The way their fingers comb through his hair or how they hug him–palms flat in the center of his back to keep him but not trap him.

And this. Whatever _this_ is; Hawke gently pressing kisses into the lyrium lines on his skin. He’s not even sure he likes it at first–a common thing between Fenris and touch.

When Hawke raises up a bit and moves to nuzzle their face into the crook of his neck he’d decided he likes it and lulls his head to the side for them.

“Do they always hurt?” Hawke asks.

“Yes.”

He’d be lying if he said anything else. But Fenris had long ago grown accustomed to ignoring them when they were at their weakest pangs.

“It’s not bad now.” he adds, noticing Hawke has stopped moving.

They reply with another kiss against his neck and fingers dancing down the thicker lines on his back. Barely there–just ghosting over his skin in such a way that leaves Fenris unsure they were even there at all.

Hawke lays back down and presses their forehead to his arm after a moment, hand stilling in the center of his back. Fenris glances at them in confusion, eyes half-lidded from contentment.

“I hate that you always hurt.” they mumble, raising their face to look at him. “I just want to fix it–make it better somehow.”

Fenris smiles and cups his free hand under their chin, pulling them to a kiss. Hawke’s hand draws across his back to coil around him. It’s slow and gentle and, again, something that took time for Fenris to adapt to. He loves it now.

“Some things cannot be fixed.” he says softly when they part, forehead pressed to Hawke’s. “You make things easier. That is enough.”

Hawke smiles at him, bumps their nose against his, and asks, “Since they’re not too bad right now, am I allowed to go looking for your ticklish spots?”

“Not if you value your life.” Fenris mock-threatens, even as he feels Hawke’s fingers dancing across his ribs and does nothing.

“Ah,” Hawke says with a chuckle. “Never had much use for that thing anyway.”


End file.
